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I can't pin down why I like the Arbus cinema picture way more than the Sugimoto. Maybe it's because it's by Arbus and even an early work like this resonates with the dark interior strangeness of human beings, her area of interest. I could live with her photo on my wall but probably not the Sugimoto for more than 24 hours, for while it is clever that doesn't give forever and soon becomes rigid and little more than formulaic.
There's a word I was thinking about while lazing about in bed this morning which could be applied to most serious writing, equanimity. It's a key driver in literature. Getting emotional about anything (in word or thought) is routinely unacceptable. Arbus is the hot, dark flame that leaves a mark on your skin, Sugimoto the snow falling on a day when the air is still.